New Friends, Old Enemies
by GearsGirl6295
Summary: After the end of Gears of War 3, life on Azura seems to be going well. But a certain someone has some unfinished business to take care of. Rated M for language, violence, and some sexuality.
1. Chapter 1

Damon Baird took a deep breath of the salty ocean air, cradling his lancer in his arms as he walked through the assortment of tropical trees and brush.

Samantha Byrne was a few paces ahead, and he caught his eyes traveling over her form for the tenth time that night. They were on patrol, but the blonde found being paired with Sam fairly distracting. He gave her the once over, starting from her boots to the back of her head, pausing at key locations.

Man, she was gorgeous. He glanced at her long, slender legs again when he was sure she wasn't looking.

"Hey Blondie, when you're done staring at my ass, you might want to keep your eyes open. We're supposed to be on watch, remember?"

_Shit. Oh well._

Sam's voice was like candy; addictively sweet, leaving him craving more. Baird was sure his cheeks flushed a tad as she glanced at him over her shoulder, absentmindedly batting the thick lashes which framed her deep, chocolate brown eyes. She smiled at him when she saw the spilt second of embarrassment on his face.

"Oh you were, were you?" She cocked her brow, her tone soft and playful.

Baird recovered quickly, a smart ass grin already tugging at the edges of his lips.

"How can I not?" Though his expression said otherwise, his tone was strangely genuine, and now it was Sam's turn to blush. The tips of her ears turned the slightest bit red, and Baird quickened his pace so they were shoulder to shoulder. He looked Sam over, and the brunette met his powder blue gaze for as long as she could before bashfulness got the best of her. She lowered her head and smiled self-consciously.

"What are you starting at?" Sam asked, voice hushed. Who would have thought that Damon Baird could give the motor mouth south-islander butterflies? He smiled at her sudden shyness.

"You of course. Who do you think?" He countered, his soft tone mirroring Sam's. "You're gorgeous."

Sam closed her eyes for a second, grinning. She was just praying that the blonde hadn't noticed her now ruddy completion. But she had the feeling that he had.

The brunette gear waited a beat before speaking again. This time though, her accented voice was back to its normal snarky confidence.

"So, has it really been by chance that we're always paired for watch duty? Or am I right in thinking that it's been your idea all along?"

Sam faced him with her know-it-all stare, waiting for a response. Baird's heart jumped in his throat, but he didn't miss a beat.

"Don't flatter yourself," he said with a roll of his eyes. "We've been through this already, sweetheart. You're really just not my type."

Baird began to walk ahead of her, and Sam let out a disgusted laugh. _First he tells me how beautiful I am, and then he pulls that shit. What an ass…_

Yes, Baird was shy, she knew. Maybe a little scared even. She could understand why; this was a big step for him. Baird had never truly loved anyone before in his life, so naturally the particularly antisocial mechanic combated his feelings with sarcasm, basically out of instinct. She was prepared for it. But she also knew how he truly felt about her, so there was no hiding from it anymore.

She opened her mouth to make a comeback, but instead opted to grab Baird by his chest plate, and whirled him around, slamming him into the truck of a palm tree with a low thud. Baird couldn't hide the surprise or amusement from his eyes as Sam brought her face close to his. He could feel her hot breath on his face as she panted from the sudden excursion.

"Baird," Sam's voice was low, her eyes half lidded as an impish grin lit up her face. "Shut up."

The brunette brought her lips to his and kissed him; slowly at first, but steadily becoming more aggressive towards the finish. She gripped his chest plate tighter as Baird tugged on her lower lip, pulling away slowly.

"Make me," he challenged, his voice low and seductive. He met Sam's gaze defiantly as she caught her breath, a wicked smile creeping across his lips.

"You mean like the way I did last night?" Sam countered. _Oh yeah, two can play at this game._

She let her hands roam over his shoulders, taking pleasure in the fact that he shuddered as they touched. Sam slowly ran her fingertips down his bare arms as she pressed her body as closely to his as their bulky armor would allow. Baird blinked, and Sam grinned inwardly at his hesitation.

"Make me," he repeated. His was voice even lower than before, and he bit his lip, smiling.

"Oh, I'll make you…"

Sam leaned in close to his lips, but this time she took the blonde off guard with her sudden aggression. They barely breathed as they kissed almost violently; Baird's both hands cupped Sam's cheeks for leverage as her palms came to rest against the back of his head. The female gear thrust her tongue against his with more force then necessary and she laughed into his mouth after doing so.

"You bitch…" Baird panted, grinning. His hands slowly moved from her face down to her chest, before coming together at the small of her back. He reached under her tank top and felt her body tense for a second as he caressed her soft skin.

After a few moments, Sam's hands began fumbling over the blonde's chest piece, fingers working feverishly to undo the clasps. Just then, Baird pulled away, taking hold of her wrists.

"Wait, wait, wait," he managed between breaths, whispering. "No, no, don't."

Sam looked at him with a mixture of surprise and amusement, attempting to conceal her disappointment.

"What's wrong? Chickening out already?" She asked, voice low. Baird didn't even seem to notice her words as his eyes scanned the dense growth around them.

"Shh, did you hear that?"

The fear in his eyes was immediately sobering, and Sam found herself reaching for her sidearm, eyes searching the surrounding darkness for their lancers, both of which they'd carelessly tossed aside moments ago.

"Sam, we're being followed."

Baird's voice was almost inaudibly low, and Sam strained to hear him as her mind raced. She gripped her pistol in her hand tightly as Baird reached up to touch his earpiece.

"Eh—don't move, lover boy."

A deep voice rumbled from out of nowhere before three figures immerged from the plant growth.

"That's right, hands where we can see 'em asshole."

The man; shorter, muscular build, kept his Hammerburst trained on Baird's head while his companions aimed for Sam. All three men wore black do-rags which resembled Marcus', and black bandanas covered their noses and mouths. Paired with the black paint around their eyes and dark clothing, they were next to impossible to spot at night unless they were standing ten feet away, like they were now.

Baird's one arm remained frozen in the air while his other hand gripped Sam's wrist tightly. He stood unblinking as the muzzle of the man's rifle got closer to his face.

"Don't move a muscle." The figure gestured with his chin towards the two gears, and his buddies were on them in seconds, stripping them of their side arms. One of the men, who, like the others, wore a motley assortment of light armor plates painted black, tore Sam's pistol out of her grip rather roughly, causing Baird to tense up.

"What do you want?" Baird's voice was low, but steady.

"She's the one," the first guy stated, ignoring the blonde haired gear as his gaze was fixed on Sam.

"Are you sure?" questioned the other, who's brow knitted skeptically.

"Oh, I'm sure. You're the one we want, aren't you…" He reached out to stroke Sam's cheek, and Baird pulled her close out of reflex before the brunette had time to react.

"And what the fuck is it to you?" Baird snarled, forgetting about the now five guns pointed at his skull.

A pair of snipers revealed themselves from cover behind a couple of large boulders, training the barrels of their Longshots on the two.

The leader of the group seemed satisfied with Baird's protective reply, and gestured to his two companions. They grabbed the male gear's arms and the first guy wrenched Sam from Baird's grip, putting his gloved palm over her mouth to silence her while he shouldered his rifle. Sam struggled against him, but he was just too strong. He brought his pistol to her temple.

"Uh, uh, uh— shh…" He leaned close to her ear as he soothed. His hand was pressed so tightly over her mouth and nose that Sam was forced to quiet down to avoid suffocation.

"Yes, that's better." She cringed, pulling her head away as she felt his breath on her neck.

"Let—her—go! Ugh!" Baird struggled against the grip of the other two men with all his might. The bigger of his captors grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back before placing his hand over the blonde's mouth.

"See COG? He said he'd get even with you." The man growled as he held Baird's right arm tightly behind his back, his comrade gripping his left. "You think you can come into our city and fuck with us?" Baird's blue eyes darted between the men and Sam, blazing with anger as well as fear.

"Fenix to Baird, do you copy?" Marcus Fenix's voiced crackled in Baird's earpiece. "Baird, come in! There's an unidentified craft off shore to the east."

The kidnappers looked at each other with wide eyes as they overheard the sergeant's gruff voice. One of them mouthed 'Fenix', somewhat shocked, as if he hadn't believed he existed.

"The patrol boat on your side is non-responsive. What do you see? Come on, answer me, goddamnit! Where the hell are you?!"

Baird used the momentary distraction to his advantage. He sunk his teeth into the bare palm over his mouth, causing a yelp of pain to pass the lips of the person it belonged to. The blonde elbowed the other guy in the jaw, and then pressed his earpiece.

"Marcus, it's an ambush! We're—" The guy with the now bloody hand hit Baird hard in the ribs and regained his hold on him.

"Barns, let's go! Leave that asshole!" the man who now had Sam in a headlock shouted, holding both of her wrists behind her back with his free hand as he dragged her along roughly. He couldn't cover her mouth as he struggled to get her back to their boat.

"Sam! Sam I'm sorry!" Baird shouted as he heard the base alarm go off.

"Damon!" Sam shrieked, struggling with all her strength against her captor's strong grip. "Let go of me! Damon! No!"

"Sam, we'll come for you! We'll—" One of the men brought the butt of his rifle down hard on the back of his head, and Baird slumped to the ground, out cold.


	2. Chapter 2

"Damon!" Sam grit her teeth as she felt her captor leaving bruises on her wrists, but she fought anyway. "Let go of me! Damon! No!"

Sam's struggles were pointless against her captor's strong grip, and she felt the air leaving her lungs as one of the men brought the butt of his rife down hard on the back of Baird's head.

Her eyes filled with tears as his body hit the ground, and she fought even harder to break free, but to no avail. The brunette was able to catch a quick glimpse of the dark red blood trickling down Baird's neck before he faded from view, and Sam's tears got caught in her throat when she knew she couldn't do anything to help.

The distant sounds of the base alarm rang through her ears, but the hope that she'd be rescued was quickly slipping away. Sam knew how far she was from base, and she'd realized that she and Baird had strayed off route as they bantered back and fourth; the sound of each other's voice making them oblivious to the task at hand.

These guys have guns too, she thought. They'll put up a fight. It occurred to Sam that these men were skilled; highly trained, and experienced. They were able to not only locate the remote island, but they'd also gotten past the patrol, and now had her as their prisoner, without so much as an ounce of interference from the COG soldiers, who were no doubt asleep until the alert was issued.

_Oh God Marcus; Anya, Cole…Where are you?_

It was dark. Sam's booted feet dug small ditches into the soft ground as she pulled away from the man in black, who grunted with effort as he forced her along. She couldn't see much around her; the surrounding vegetation was shutting out the moon's soft glow, and the only other light source was coming from the power indicators on her chest plate, and they weren't much help.

Her feet were treading sand now, and Sam could make out the silhouette of a small boat—a fishing vessel off shore. Its lights were out, making it blend right in with the surrounding darkness. Waves crashed hard over the beach, and Sam's body went cold once she realized how long it'd be until her friends were able to find her.

If they'd find her at all.

Despite his unyielding grip, the man who dragged Sam along found it was all he could do to haul her body unto the deck. He'd covered her mouth with his palm again after her shouts and screams were too much to handle, and he was thankful for his thick gloves after witnessing what the blonde had done to his comrade. He looked over his shoulder as he stepped into the boat, checking once again for any signs of the opposing force.

Nothing. No one in sight. He smiled.

The man who'd knocked Baird out held a strip of cloth over his hand as he boarded the ship, gesturing for the driver to get the hell out of there, fast.

"Morgan, give me a hand. This bitch just won't quit." The man who had Sam called. Morgan came to his superior's aid, holding Sam's hand's behind her back as the leader, referred to as Carris bound the brunette's wrists.

They'd pulled up a chair, and sat the woman down rather roughly, pulling her arms over the back to keep them behind her. Sam at once voiced her anger at her present situation once Carris took his palm from her face.

"You bloody bastards! You don't know who you're fucking with!" She struggled against the cloth around her wrists as the two men stood in front of her, looking over their handy work.

"You were the one with Fenix in Char, yes?" The leader of the group asked, his voice calm—content—as he turned his head to one side. Sam ignored him, and the guy named Barns who'd hand his hand bitten took a step forward and slapped Sam hard across her cheek.

"That's for this." He held up his crudely bandaged palm. "Now answer the goddamn question."

Sam's face stung, and she blinked hard once, refusing to let the tears in her eyes fall. Her jaw set tight and she shot the man a hard stare, one that clearly meant death. She waited a moment, staring the man down for another second before speaking.

"Yeah, I was there. What the fuck does it matter to you?" She spat, her voice low, like a growl. Her cheek burned, and she ached to reach up and rub it. But even if her hands weren't bound, she'd never give them the satisfaction of knowing that the blow had hurt like hell.

Carris smiled a small sinister smile and rolled his neck. It was clear he was enjoying her predicament, and Sam's thoughts drifted, thinking with anticipation what exactly she was going to do to him when—not if, _when_ she escaped.

"You see?" He glanced at his two companions. The boat was moving away from the island at breakneck speed, and Sam's heart sank as Azura faded from view.

"Fenix's girl. Just like he wanted."

_Fenix's girl…_ Sam's brow knitted with confusion. _He thinks I'm…_

The cocky bastard seemed to notice her expression as his gaze drifted from his buddies. He stared her down as a small smile crept across Sam's lips. The brunette chuckled and shook her head, much to her captor's confusion as well as irritation.

"What the fuck is she laughing at?" Morgan asked no one in particular, bewildered as he watched Sam shake her head, still chuckling softly to herself. She began mumbling words in Kashkuri, and one of the dark haired snipers who'd been standing off to the side lifted his head when the particularly sharp curses reached his ears.

"Yeah, what the fuck _are_ you laughing at?" Barns stepped forward with a violent look in his eye before his superior held him back. Just then, Sam spoke.

"You know, for a second there, I actually thought you knew what you were doing."

The men stared her down impatiently. She shook her head again, obviously taking pleasure in their confused expressions.

"So you're telling me that asshole Griffin sent you guys all this way, and you didn't even know who to look for." Sam's eyes almost mirrored sympathy.

"Is that the only info he gave you? 'Fenix's girl'?"

By now Carris had grown pretty tired of Sam's voice, and he grabbed her arm roughly.

"Shut your fucking mouth," he snarled, eyes blazing as Sam's face held no fear what so ever. She looked as though she were almost enjoying this.

"Anya Stroud is the one you're looking for, dickhead." She feigned pity as she continued. "I hate to tell you, but you got the wrong person."

"You said you were there!" The man raised his voice; his tone had lost its confident air long ago. "Char. You were with Fenix in Char!"

"Did you stop to think that maybe I wasn't the only woman there?" By the looks on their faces, Sam couldn't tell they hadn't.

True, there wasn't an abundance of female gears, but that fact that they'd come so far without sufficient information was humorous. Even in her present predicament, Sam couldn't help but crack a grin.

Carris ran a hand over his head. He turned around as he did so, before swinging back around abruptly, striking Sam in the jaw. The brunette let out a gasp on impact, but refused to cry out. She took a moment to steal herself.

"I bet your boss is going to have a thing or two to say, huh?" She flexed her aching jaw muscles, refusing to let her fear show through.

Sam didn't know what was going to happen now. She wasn't the one they needed. So what did that mean? Sam concluded that they could either kill her, or use her as a negotiating tactic. She prayed for the latter, holding the men's piercing gaze. His eyes flickered with rage; the bright whites a stark contrast to the black paint around the lash line. He was intimidating, but Sam didn't let it show.

The leader of the small group seemed to tense up at the mention of his boss, and though hidden by the bandana, his face had gone a shade paler than before. He turned to Barns, who'd already begun loosening his neck muscles, rolling his broad shoulders with a low crack.

"Gag this bitch before I cap her."


	3. Chapter 3

"Fenix to Baird, do you copy?" Marcus Fenix tried to keep his tone of voice steady as static crackled in his earpiece. He'd given up trying to reach the group of gears patrolling offshore, and couldn't understand why the mechanic wasn't responding.

_Unless…_

He pressed it again, setting his jaw.

"Baird, come in! There's an unidentified craft offshore to the east."

Marcus listened hard. Nothing.

"The patrol boat on your side is non-responsive. What do you see? Come on, answer me, goddamnit! Where the hell are you?!"

The sergeant was about to pound his fist on the table in front of him before his earpiece burst to life. Baird's voice boomed over the comm., and Marcus flinched at the sudden noise.

"Marcus, it's an ambush! We're—"

"Baird! Baird, what the hell's going on?!" He heard muffled voices before the comm went dead again. He switched channels to Jace and Anya, who were already on their way to inspect the patrol boat. The blonde's voice immediately reached his ears.

"Marcus? Marcus, what's wrong?" She sounded flustered, and Marcus knew they'd found something they didn't like.

"Anya," Marcus' voice was a low growl now. "We've got company."

* * *

Baird didn't know where he was. It was warm, but his body felt cold as he began to come to, immediately feeling the effects of the stock of a Retro Lancer coming in contact with his skull. He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious. It was daylight, but it had been close to dawn before the lights went out, so he couldn't tell for sure. His eyes fluttered open, and began to focus on two familiar faces. But he couldn't for the life of him place their names. The blonde shifted against the ground as the muffled voices steadily became clearer, and he could make out Cole and Marcus—yeah, that's who they were—leaning over him, their faces contorted with concern.

"Baird," Marcus kept his voice low, almost gentle. "Baird, what the hell happened?"

The mechanic groaned as he tried to sit up. He reached to touch the gash on the back of his head, and cringed when he saw his fingertips stained dark red.

"Ughhh…Oh, _shit..._"

Cole eased him up slowly.

"You're alright, baby. Come on, easy does it."

The massive gear tried to stay positive, as always, but even in his disoriented state, Baird could tell he was worried. The blonde was about to get to his feet, but a wave of nausea took hold. His mind raced, going over all the symptoms of a concussion as he fought the urge to gag. Cole backed off a bit when it looked like he needed to puke, and Baird sat very still before rubbing his eyes. _Ok, ok. I'm alright. God, why does my head hurt so much?_

"C-Cole…?" He looked up, squinting at the early morning sunlight peaking through the trees. Cole managed a small grin and put out his hand, which Baird took, and hauled him to his feet. The blonde looked unsteady for a moment, but after a second, he planted his boots firmly against the ground.

"Marcus…What the hell…" Baird mumbled, clenching his jaw as his head continued to throb. He couldn't remember anything from the night before. He looked at his blood-stained hand again. _How the f—_

_Oh God_…

"Sam," Baird's eyes were frantic as he searched his friends' faces. Now he remembered. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…_

He looked around, then back at Marcus.

"Where's Sam?"

"Baird—"

"Where is she?" Baird took a step closer, his eyes blazing. Blood had dripped from his wound down his neck, and he was pale. Marcus tried to keep his tone neutral.

"Baird, listen to me. I need to know what happened. Try to remember."

"Is she...?" He couldn't focus. Fragments of the scene flashed through his mind, but he couldn't put them together. His voice was raspy, and he suddenly realized how thirsty he was when his words got caught in his throat.

"They…took her…"

Baird's face went slack, and Cole reached for his arm, which he placed over his shoulder. The blonde looked like he was going to pass out.

"Come on baby, lets get that looked at." Baird simply nodded, excepting Cole's help. _They took her…_

"Anya to Marcus. Come in."

"I'm here Anya. What's going on?"

"They're...gone Marcus…" The dark haired gear's shoulders slumped. He heard her exhale slowly. "They're all gone…"

Marcus balled his fist. "Shit…"

"That's not all. There are two unidentified bodies here."

The group could hear Anya grunt with effort as she turned one of the dead men over.

"Looks like Stranded. Adult male, heavily armed…." Her voice trailed off as her brow knitted, taking in what she saw.

"Dressed in all black, light armor plates, face paint…"

Marcus glanced at Baird through the corner of his eye, and the mechanic nodded, fear in his blue eyes.

"We're on our way." Cole and Baird followed Marcus' lead as he started a fast walk towards the western shoreline.

"Did…Did you find Baird and Sam?" Marcus could tell by the tone of her voice that Anya was steeling herself for the worst.

"We found Baird. He's fine." Marcus glanced over his shoulder as he quickened his pace a tad. Baird was lagging behind a little, but he looked a bit better then before.

"Sam's…missing."

Anya didn't respond right away. Her throat went dry as she spoke.

"Marcus…is she…?"

"I'm not sure. Baird says she's been captured."

Anya tried to make sense of his words. _Captured? But…why?_ She glanced over her shoulder at the two bodies on the floor of the patrol boat, covered in blood. One of the men had a bullet hole in his forehead, and Jace cringed before searching him.

"Who are these guys?" She asked over the comm., though the question wasn't directed to anyone in particular.

"I guess we're going to find out."

*****Sorry for the wait guys! I'm going to try to update sooner ^.^ Thanks for reading! I hope you like so far :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Sam could taste blood in her mouth as her captors made their way up the seemingly endless flights of stairs to their boss's "office" at the very top of the tower she'd visited once before.

The brunette gear tried to ignore the aches that seemed to cover her entire body as two of the men practically dragged her up each steep step. She'd given up trying to escape for now; Sam knew that she'd find the opportune moment to make her move soon enough, and she wanted to save her strength for when it came. But as she continued to make her way upward, she knew that strength was progressively waning. She clamped her eyes shut as one of the men gripped her arm harshly; aggravating the bruises that now covered her tanned body.

Sam was determined to keep going though. _He'll come. He will. He promised._

She tried to sooth herself with the thought of making the bastards pay, _dearly._ Sam knew she'd enjoy the moment the tables turned, and guilt didn't even cross her mind as she felt blood drip from her nose, leaving a stain on the gag tied around her mouth. Samantha Byrne was a good person, a _kind_ person, but she wasn't going to let this slide. They'd not only put their hands on her, but on Baird as well. Sam thought of the last time she'd seen the blonde haired gear. The image of him lying lifeless, bleeding, wouldn't go away no matter how much she tried to reassure herself that he was alright. She didn't even know if he was alive. She'd seen the blood, the way he hit the ground, heard the thud of the man's gun coming in contact with the mechanic's head. _Stop that. Of course he's alright. He's strong. He'll come._

He promised.

After what seemed like hours, the small group finally reached the massive doors, emblazoned with the letter "G". They led to Griffin's office, Sam recalled. She was reminded of her past visit as her feet dragged along the filthy floors. Everything looked basically the same, but the brunette at once noticed the significant damage Myrrah's Tempest had inflicted upon the weakened structure. It had taken its toll for sure.

There were less people too. Way less. Sam remembered how crowded Griffin Tower had been during her previous visit; a stark contrast to the current number of inhabitants. They were all men, she noted. And every one of them had guns, wore armor or some type of military gear. They didn't resemble Stranded at all. They looked more like mercenaries. Sam wondered where they'd come from as the leader pushed the doors open and forced her inside. The brunette noticed his hesitation before doing so and hid a smile. _Not so tough now, are you asshole…_

Aaron Griffin took his time turning around from the picture window behind his massive desk, but his pleased, content expression was at once shattered when his eyes fell upon Sam.

"Who the fuck is this?" He demanded, his voice the same mixture of arrogance and wickedness that Sam found effectively repulsive.

"Sir—" Carris began before Griffin stood from his seat, shutting him up instantly. Sam noticed the man visibly cringe with each of his boss's steps. He'd removed the bandana that covered his face when they'd arrived, and had been unable to mask his fear since.

"I said," Griffin was right in his face now, teeth bared as his spoke, his tone a low snarl. _"Who the fuck is this?"_

"Listen, she said—"

"Boy, don't give me any of your shit!" Griffin was shouting now. He removed the sunglasses from his face, and the flash of rage in his piercing stare was enough to make Sam's eyes widen, if only for a second.

"I told you what to do, told you _exactly_ what to do, and you fuck it up!" Griffin gestured to Sam, contempt etched across his harsh features. "The blonde one! I told you the _blonde_ one!"

"I—we thought you said, '_with_ the blonde one,'" Carris stated sheepishly. His companions didn't dare move a muscle.

Griffin's nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply. He was seconds from losing his temper completely, before he pulled his sidearm from his belt and shot Carris at pointblank range through the skull. Blood spattered on the men and their hostage before he crumpled to the ground, nearly dragging Sam with him. Her captor's eyes went wide as their gaze fixed upon their dead comrade, slumped against the ground with only half of his head intact. Dark red blood began to pool on the floor, and as Griffin casually replaced his pistol, Sam did all she could to hide her disappointment. She'd been robbed of the chance to make the tosser regret the way he'd treated her, and the sight of Griffin seemingly taking pleasure in the act made her blood boil. _No matter,_ she reminded herself. _One down, two to go._

As Griffin wiped at the flecks of blood on his vest, Sam wondered how he'd come to the conclusion that Anya was Marcus' "girl". The female gear recalled how Marcus had reacted when Griffin spoke down to the Anya. The sergeant usually tensed up whenever she was spoken of, and Sam concluded that Griffin must have caught on to his "tell".

"One of you, get that asshole out of here before I lose my patience," Griffin ordered, his composer now fully intact. Morgan jumped on the opportunity to get hell away from his comrade's murderer, and dragged the body out of the large room, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Barns was left with Sam now, and he held on to her even tighter than before.

The female gear threw her aching shoulders back as Griffin turned his gaze to her direction. She wanted to make sure he knew that he wasn't going to intimidate her.

"So, who the fuck _are_ you?" he asked again, taking a seat behind his desk once more. He gestured for Barns to undo the gag, lacing his fingers together after replacing his sunglasses.

"Not the one you needed, apparently," Sam sneered the second she was able to speak freely. "You sure picked a good couple of jackasses to do your dirty work though, that's for sure."

Griffin didn't expect that kind of an answer from the pettily built brunette, and it showed as he furrowed his brow. He scoffed at her impudence, and Sam could tell she'd gotten to him.

"You hear this bitch?" he mumbled in Barn's direction with an indignant grin. He waved the pair over, and Sam stifled a groan as her captor's fingertips dug into her skin. Griffin leaned over the desk with an obviously forced casual air, and spoke in his sickening all-knowing tone.

"You don't know who I am, do you." He stated condescendingly.

"Actually, I do," Sam responded bitterly. "Unfortunately."

"Oh that's right…" Griffin snapped his fingers theatrically, recalling the time Fenix had come, asking for his help. _The motherfucker…_

"Then you should know better then to take that tone with me, bitch."

Sam was determined to let the bastard know his words had no effect. _Who the fuck does this asshole think he is?_ She was about to toss a few pointed comments his way before Griffin gestured to his now right hand man, and Barns began dragging her out of the room.

"You know, you're bloody lucky you got the wrong person," Sam called just before they reached the doors.

"Oh yeah? And why's that?" Griffin responded; her blatant arrogance was grating on his nerves.

"Because if I was 'Fenix's girl', you'd be dead already." The brunette held his gaze with a smirk before her kidnapper dragged her passed the doors, shutting them behind him.

"You nasty bitch," Barns snarled, replacing the gag over Sam's mouth with added force. The brunette did all she could not to whimper as the rough fabric dug into her flesh. He turned her body to face him, grabbing a handful of hair at the back of her head, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"You're lucky to be alive right now, so show some fucking respect."

_Bite me,_ Sam retorted silently. The cloth over her mouth made it impossible to speak, so she held his gaze defiantly instead.

Her captor pulled her into a small room off to the side of the large hallway, where Morgan and another man Sam hadn't seen before stood waiting. After shoving her inside and shutting the door, Barns tugged his bandana off, revealing a large scar which spread from his top lip to his chin. His unshaven face paired with the black paint over his dark eyes gave him a monstrous appearance. Sam felt herself begin to shake as he stepped closer, invading her personal space.

"You know, since you're not the one he wanted after all, I don't really see much use in letting you live." He ran his fingers through her hair, pushing a brunette lock from her face as he let his eyes wander. Sam recoiled at his touch, eyes blazing as her teeth clamped over the gag.

Barns glanced at his companions, and they began to forcefully remove the female gear's chest piece. Sam immediately voiced her protest, but her words came out muffled, which only infuriated her more. She began to struggle, but they were just stronger, and the thick leather strips they'd tied around her wrists upon their arrival weren't aiding her efforts in the least.

The men threw her armor to the side, and took in the sight of her lean upper body, now covered only by her hunter green tank top. The new member of the group smirked, unsheathing a jagged knife. He brandished it as his superior pulled Sam's body closer to his. By now, the south-islander was shouting, all but screaming at him to get his bloody hands off her despite the gag, which only seemed to encourage her captors.

"Maybe we'll find some use for you after all…"

Barns looked around the room at each of his comrades before turning back to her. Sam's mind screamed at her to do something, _anything,_ as the large figures moved closer. She felt completely helpless, and her thoughts once again returned to the man she loved. She'd wanted to cry out for help, but only his name came to mind.

_Damon…oh, God...Please don't let them—_

One of her captors brushed against her bare shoulder, and that bit of contact jolted Sam back to the present situation, enabling her to regain her strength. _I won't die. Not like this._

As the group backed her into a corner, her fingertips slid over the knife concealed at the small of her back, gripping it with all her might. She fought the urge to scream as Barns pulled at her top. She could feel his bandaged palm against her skin as his hand began to roam over her chest. She blinked away the tears that had formed in her eyes, mentally preparing herself, rehearsing her next move.

The moment she felt a hand on her backside, Sam severed the leather around her wrists, and brought the blade of her knife to Barn's neck, slitting his throat in one fluid motion. The man immediately brought his hands to his wound, which gushed with blood as he choked for air.

"What the fuck?!" One of the men pulled away, and Sam went for the person closest to her. Morgan's confused, horrified expression didn't change as Sam's knife entered his neck, sending dark red liquid spurting like a geyser as she pierced his jugular. He followed his superior, and crumpled to the ground in a heap. The third man had seen enough; he dropped his knife and reached for his sidearm before the brunette could take a step closer.

"Holy fuck…," he muttered in disbelief. His hands were shaking, his knuckles white as he gripped the pistol with every ounce of his strength, pointing it directly at her forehead. Sam panted violently, refusing to let go of her weapon, now bathed in dark red. Blood dripped from her hands as she held the man's gaze with an animalistic look in her eyes. The brunette didn't hesitate to reach up and cut the gag from her mouth, smearing blood across her cheek as she did so. She wiped at it with her forearm, never taking her eyes from the man in front of her. She could hear the footfalls of the others in the background now, coming to aid their companions after overhearing their screams.

"Don't you ever, _ever,_ put your fucking hands on me again. Is that clear?"

She couldn't manage to catch her breath, and she felt her hands were shaking as the adrenaline began to subside. The man didn't say a word; he just stared at her with wide eyes as if he were still trying to comprehend the entire occurrence. He had to be in his early thirties at least, Sam had observed, but as of now, he resembled a horror-stricken child. He seemed reluctant to tear his gaze from her face to glace over his shoulder at the three men who'd just arrived, guns drawn.

"Holy s— what the fuck is this?"

They took only a second to search the puddles of blood pooling at their feet, before training their weapons on the prisoner. Two of them were on Sam in an instant, and wrenched the small knife from her grip with next to no effort. By now, Sam was exhausted, her hands shaking violently, but she didn't regret her actions for a second.

_That's for Baird. That's for my Damon, you bastards._

"You crazy bitch," One of the men struck her across her right cheek before grabbing hold of her wrists, but the pain barely registered. Sam met his gaze and spit in his face, that savage look still flickering like fire in her eyes.

The man who seemed to be in charge—light hair, mid-forties—pushed passed his comrades and grabbed Sam by the arm. He looked into her eyes for a moment, scanning her bloodied face with bright green eyes, and then glanced down at two bodies at his feet before turning to the others.

"Anyone else want to mess around with her, go right ahead."

Sam noticed the tone of his voice; by no means gentle, but less…violent than the others. She couldn't tell if he was being merciful, or just trying to avoid another outburst. She decided on the latter, not about to let her guard down for even a fraction of a second.

The older man led her out of the stuffy room and made his way back towards Griffin's office. By now, Sam had steeled herself for Griffin's reaction to the killing of his men; the brunette was just glad to leave that closet-sized space, and the people inside it, behind. She'd never been more frightened in her life.

*****Wow, long chapter :O I told you guys I'd update sooner, so I did my best to be true to my word. I hope you enjoyed this one, I'll be back with chapter 5 soon. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

Marcus gingerly stepped onto the patrol boat's deck, which had drifted several yards from its usual route, the motor running idly as it remained wedged against the jetty. He scanned the surrounding area with his striking blue gaze, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the boat's hull, looking for any signs of damage.

Nothing.

Stranded usually salvaged—stole—anything that was remotely useful, so finding the boat completely intact, aside from the crew, was strange.

"Well, they weren't here for the boat," Marcus stated, his tone gravelly as always. He glanced over at Baird, who had taken a seat near the bow, watching for a moment as Anya administered first-aid to the gash on the blonde's head. The sergeant's boots thumped against the deck as he made his way to the captain's quarters. He let the weather-beaten door creak open slowly to find Cole crouching next to Jace, inspecting the bodies of his fellow gears. The ex-thrashball star wiped his hands on the legs of his pants as he stood, smearing blood on the worn fabric.

"Man, they slit their throats." Cole wrinkled his nose at the sight of his blood-stained gloves.

"They wanted to keep quiet," Marcus observed, noting the absence of bullet casings on the floor. _No gunfire._ He took note of the intruders' choice of outerwear as well. Marcus found it reminded him of Commando gear; lightweight, ideal for stealth. He caught himself beginning to lose focus as his thoughts traveled across distant memories.

_Dom, I'm so sorry._

Marcus shook himself from his momentary trance, kneeling over to inspect one of the men, dressed in all black, just as Anya had described minutes ago.

"If you weren't here for the boat, what the hell did you want?" the dark-haired gear mumbled softly, almost to himself as his eyes at once focused on the sticky red liquid staining the man's vest. Apparently, the crew had been able to fire off a couple of shots after all.

"These guys aren't your average Stranded, that's for sure," Jace concluded, still lost in thought as he sifted through one of the men's bags. Marcus grunted his agreement.

"They came for something else," Cole stated, breaking the short silence. "And aside from these two," he gestured to the dead men, "I think they got it."

"They wanted a distraction," Marcus nodded his head slowly. They'd come for Sam, and apart from the two casualties, their plan had been extremely well executed.

_But why Sam?_ Marcus repeated the question to himself before Anya placed a hand on his arm, causing him to turn.

"Marcus," she said softly. Her brow furrowed as she turned to Baird, who slumped in his seat, staring at his hands.

"I think he remembers now." There was fear, a hint of confusion in her eyes.

Marcus followed Anya towards the far side of the boat, leaving Jace and Cole to continue searching the bodies.

"They—those guys," Baird's tone was oddly soft; Marcus could tell he was trying to piece the situation together in his head as the words came out. "They were looking for a particular person. They kept asking if she—Sam," his eyes dropped for a brief moment as he mentioned the female gear, "was 'the one.'"

"What else did they say?" Marcus asked. "Was there anything that could give us a clue where they came from? Distinctive accent maybe?" The sergeant was pulling at straws, and Baird could tell.

"No," Baird began slowly, letting the word linger on his lips. "They mentioned 'their city' once or twice…"

Marcus' slightly confused expression slackened as everything began to fall into place. _Their city…_his _city…It couldn't—_

"Marcus," Jace called, holding a small radio in his hand, which had begun to crackle with static before an all too familiar voice reached the sergeant's ears. Marcus felt his mouth go dry.

"You might want to hear this." Jace's dark eyes held the same shock as his superior's as he handed the older man the radio.

_We'll settle this another time Fenix. You can count on that, bitch._

Marcus pressed the button, infuriated. "Griffin."

**Wow, sorry for the long wait! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I know it was kind of short, but believe me, it's all going to come together soon ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

"You got some nerve, girl. Some fucking _nerve!_" Griffin's fist came in contact with Sam's jaw again as he ended his sentence, and this time, the brunette failed to control herself. She felt the air leave her lungs with that blow; the sheer force causing her to cry out in pain. She felt dizzy, and for a moment, saw black spots in her vision. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth as her lip split open. It took a moment for Sam's eyes to take in the sight of the light haired man restraining his superior.

"Sir, listen. She's had enough." His large frame exceeded Griffin's; simply stepping in front of him was enough to shield the woman from his rage.

"Maddox, get the fuck out of here," Griffin spat. He attempted to shove the larger man away, but didn't get far. Sam shook her aching head weakly, still groggy as her vision slowly cleared.

She was able to catch a fuzzy glimpse of the light haired man's—Maddox's—unwavering gaze.

"Use your head. We need her." His tone was strong, extremely convincing, and it didn't take long for Griffin to reluctantly step back.

"If you want to get to Fenix," he pointed to the woman, gagged and tied to a chair. "That's your ticket."

"Oh, I'll get that motherfucker," Griffin's eyes blazed at the very mention of the dark haired sergeant; the one who took everything from him.

"But I'm gonna take care of this one first." He motioned to attack Sam again, but Maddox wasn't going to be crossed.

"You stubborn son of a bitch," the older man gripped Griffin's shirt with one hand, holding him in place. His tone was low growl. "You kill her, we have _nothing_."

After holding the man's gaze for just a moment longer, Maddox released his superior with a look of disgust. Griffin's shocked expression was quickly replaced with that of indignation, and he brushed at his chest, smoothing his clothing.

"Those are my men out there." Maddox's light green eyes were unwavering. "_My_ men. Don't you forget that. We had an agreement, goddamnit!"

"I don't know who the fuck you think you're talking to, but no one tells me what to do in _my_ city," Griffin retorted, seemingly unmoved by the older man's words. "You're fucking right we had a deal, and you're going to keep your end of it."

"I intend to." Darkness took hold of Maddox's features for a moment as he responded.

"Fenix—the COG—they deserve to be punished for their crimes." He turned back to Sam, who was weakly fidgeting in her seat.

"So I won't stand by and watch you throw away our last resort. Your idea of 'revenge' is getting us nowhere. Fenix will come for her, maybe others as well. Then you can make him pay." Maddox paused, exhaling softly before continuing.

"Two of my men are missing because you wanted the woman first," He added, gritting his teeth.

"Two of your guys are missing because they fucked up."

"You gave us nothing to work with! You yourself had only seen her once!" The older man balled his fist, fighting back his anger. "You keep her alive, or we walk. You're choice."

Griffin's eyes seemed to pierce through Maddox's before he shrugged his shoulders with a careless air. "You want her, fine. Keep the bitch. But you listen, and you listen good."

Griffin gripped his pistol, and slowly brought it to Maddox's temple. The man eyed the weapon, but his expression remained strong. He made eye contact with his boss as he spoke.

"I'm giving the fucking orders around here. Not you. If you think you're gonna pull any of that lone ranger shit out there," Griffin pressed the barrel of the gun harder against the man's skull and cocked it, letting the sharp click of metal echo through the room. "I'll blow your fucking brains out. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Maddox responded steadily, his distain for Aaron Griffin palpable as he uttered those two little words.

"Good. Now get that bitch out of here."

Griffin replaced his sidearm, turning on his heal to take a seat at his desk, where he began switching through channels on a small radio. Maddox stood for a moment longer, and then began untying Sam from her chair. She flinched as his fingers brushed her legs, but didn't have the strength to do much else. She'd caught bits and pieces of the two men's heated conversation, but right now, her brain couldn't make sense of any of it. The brunette turned her head to look around, but that little bit of movement made her want to gag. Her eyelids fluttered before the whole world went black.

* * *

"I want to thank you for what you did before."

Sam awoke to the sound of a man's voice, but not the one she wanted to hear. It was deep, fierce, slightly accented. _Maddox_.

Her throbbing head worked to piece everything together. She blinked several times, but couldn't see anything but darkness. It took a moment in her disoriented state to realize she was blindfolded, and Sam wondered how long she'd been unconscious.

"Those men you killed, my men; I didn't like them." Sam smacked her lips, immediately tasting blood, and discovered she wasn't gagged.

"Well, that makes two of us," Sam responded bitterly, voice hoarse with thirst.

"Who the fuck are you anyway?" She asked, attempting to sound stronger than she felt. Her entire face hurt like hell.

"None of your concern," Maddox dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "All that matters is that you stay very, _very_ still, and do exactly what we tell you. Can you do that?" Sam resented his condescending tone, and bared her teeth as she spoke.

"Oh yeah? And what do you want? I hope it's not what the others wanted, because that won't end so nicely for you either." Despite her weakened appearance, Sam's tone was still venomous. Maddox's expression contorted with disgust, though the brunette couldn't see.

"They were animals. I want nothing of the sort," he stated, resentment flickering in his eyes. Maddox was an asshole; they all were, but it occurred to Sam that perhaps he didn't like the idea of his comrades abusing a woman, soldier or not.

"Fenix on the other hand…" His voice trailed off as his thoughts wandered. "Well, we don't see eye to eye. And because you and your COG have succeeded in destroying close to everything on Sera, we have decided to call Azura home. Fascists such as yourselves have lived in luxury long enough." He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. The color drained from Sam's face as she finally understood.

_They mean to kill us. All of us, starting with Marcus…_ She realized that Griffin had meant what he said about getting even with him a few months ago. He'd wanted to kill Anya first so as to make him suffer before doing him in as well. And then—

_They're going to invade Azura._

Sam had grown sick of being blindfolded; she took advantage of her ability to speak immediately.

"You ungrateful _bastards!_ We saved your lives!" The brunette gear couldn't control her anger as she thought of the countless friends she'd lost during the war. Their blood had been spilt in order to save these scumbags. The very idea caused her bruised cheeks to flush.

_How many of them are there? I have to get out of here. I have to warn them._

Sam's mind was racing; one part of her was arguing with Maddox, but the other was reeling at the thought of how truly helpless she—everyone was. The remainder of the COG army had reinforced Azura as best as they could, but resources were limited. And she'd witnessed firsthand what Griffin—along with Maddox and his men—was capable of.

"From a problem you created," Maddox responded flatly, his tone even.

"Is that what you think?" Sam's tone mirrored disbelief; Maddox's response pushing everything on her mind aside.

"You really believe we wanted so many people to die? Don't you think if we could have ended the war sooner, we would have? Its people like _you_ who did nothing as my mates fought and died!" Sam's blood boiled as she recalled the hardships she'd endured during her lifetime. "We've all suffered, everyone has!"

Maddox scoffed. "Don't be so noble. Nothing will ever undo the damage you've done." His voice dropped lower as he continued.

"You think you know suffering? I watched as gears dragged my Elise away to a breeding farm. My little girl; taken from me to be raped for 'the good of the species.'" Sam's body went cold for a moment as he leaned close to her face. Maddox must have noticed her slackened expression.

"Oh yes, I've had my share of suffering. We—all my people have." The man's voice was a snarl now.

"You and your Coalition can burn in hell."

Maddox exhaled through his nose before turning away. The room was silent for a minute before Sam heard the man step closer, and her body tensed up immediately. She hated how vulnerable she felt, especially without her armor. Sam glanced blindly at the tear in her tank top, aching to cover the exposed flesh at her ribs. Her feet absentmindedly pushed against the floor, trying and failing to create some distance between herself and her captor.

"Relax," he said, his voice calm again. "We're letting you live, for now." He hadn't put his hands on her, but Sam didn't believe Maddox for a minute.

"Fenix is the one we want, and you're going to bring him to us, just as the blonde would have."

"Oh, really?" Sam's words dripped with sarcasm. "Well, I'm sorry you think that way, because I'll do nothing of the sort," she answered, purposefully imitating his words as she finished her sentence. Maddox had complete control of the situation, and he knew it, which enraged the south-islander to no end.

"But you already have," Maddox stated simply. At that moment, Sam's ears caught the sound of a radio crackling, and Griffin's voice soon afterward, before rough cloth covered her mouth once more.

**Two updates in one day? :D I'm sorry for keeping you guys waiting for so long. I'm going to be better with updates (I'll try to be at least.) Thank you for all the reviews and support so far, it's really appreciated :) **


	7. Chapter 7

"Marcus Fenix."

Aaron Griffin stated the sergeant's name flatly, as if the two words left a terrible taste in his mouth.

"What the hell do you want?" Marcus' voice was low and steady as usual, but something in his tone was different. It wasn't him just trying to stay calm; he was growling, and Anya found herself swallowing hard as he bared his teeth while he spoke into the radio.

"I said I'd get even with you, bitch."

"I said what the hell do you want?" Marcus' tone was the same as before, but the way his icy blue eyes fixed hard on the distance was a clear indication that his patience was wearing thin, fast.

"You know what I want Fenix."

There was muffled movement and scrambled voices coming over the radio, then Delta could make out a woman's voice; her words were stifled. Marcus' jaw set tight when he realized Sam was gagged.

"Your bitch could use some manners. But she isn't_ your_ bitch, is she,"

"She didn't do anything to you." The dark haired sergeant's already hushed growl dropped even lower, cutting Griffin's sentence short.

"Real shame too, I was lookin' forward to seeing Anya again." The group could envision the nasty smirk spreading across Griffin's lips as he spoke. Marcus' expression slackened ever so slightly at the mention of the blonde's name, obviously on edge as he wondered how Griffin had figured it out. "But this one will do just fine…," he added before Sam's muffled voice filled the small room again.

Cole placed a hand on Baird's shoulder; not a comforting touch, but more of a restraining grip as he noticed the mechanic's cheeks flush with anger. Baird's nostrils flared as he exhaled deeply, clearly fighting back the urge to scream.

"She was following orders." Marcus stated, ignoring the man's previous comment. "This is between you and me." He paused before snarling "let her go."

"You don't seem to understand," Griffin carried on after Sam's voice was drowned out by the scuffle of boots. "I lost people I cared about, my family because of the COG; because of people like her. You've all got blood on your hands. You're all fascist, heartless pieces of shit who don't give a fuck about whose lives you ruin as long as you're _following orders_."

His voice lost its know-it-all confidence for a moment as he continued. "You took everything from me. I've got some scores to settle."

Anya kept very still with the rest of her squad as Marcus stood, unblinking. The female gear half expected him to jump through the radio and strangle Sam's captors right there. His gravelly voice shook her from her thoughts.

"I know it's not her you want, or Lieutenant Stroud," Marcus said coolly. "It's me. And I'll be happy to oblige."

"You got one day, motherfucker. Hand yourself over, and you can have her ass," Griffin spat, ignoring the formalities and Marcus' uncharacteristically cocky tone. "But don't waste too much time."

Baird's stomach somersaulted as Sam's muffled protests reached his ears again.

"I know I won't," he added smugly.

The group heard a crack, like bone on bone which made their entire bodies go numb. Anya cringed and turned away, shielding herself from the invisible scene. Sam whimpered through the gag, and Griffin chuckled softly.

"I'm gonna have some fun with this bitch."

That was all it took.

Baird got loose from Cole's hold in a less than a second, and grabbed the radio from Marcus without hesitation. The action even seemed to take the sergeant off-guard, as he let his now empty palm stay extended before lowering his arm slowly. It wasn't like Baird to cross the line like that, not with him.

"Listen, asshole!" There was what could only be described as pure, unbridled rage blazing in the blonde's eyes. "You lay another finger on her; I swear you'll be begging for a bullet to the head by the time I'm done with you! You hear me? You leave her the fuck alone!"

There was a pause which seemed to last for hours, interrupted only by Baird's ragged breathing. When Griffin's voice finally came over the radio again, his tone was different, if only for a second. Baird had clearly struck a nerve with the man. It could have been labeled as fear, genuine fear if he'd not been able to mask his words so well.

"You got one day, bitch."

White static came through the device's small speakers now, and Cole watched with pity as his friend's shoulders slumped. Baird let the little radio hit the desk and then shoved past Marcus, who was facing the floor; eyes shut, his expression blank.

The blonde gear breathed heavily, leaning to rest both hands on a table opposite his friends. His breathing grew more rapid, as if he were on the verge of hyperventilating before he kicked a file cabinet, denting the weak metal.

"They're hurting her," Baird breathed, almost too low to hear. His face was unsettlingly pale, a stark contrast to the tips of his ears, which were an unhealthy shade of red.

"Those fucking _animals!_" he shouted, clenching his teeth towards the end of his sentence. Baird pushed a stack of papers off the table before turning on his heal to leave, slamming the door behind him. Anya motioned to go after him, but Marcus caught her by the arm. She jumped, startled by his sudden movement. He hadn't even budged as Baird lost his temper.

"Leave him alone," Marcus's voice sounded hurt as he released her. "Just…give him a minute."

They'd all had a feeling that Baird and Sam had grown close, but the mechanic's strong reaction to the present situation was verification, and they knew he wouldn't be able to handle the worst. Damon Baird had spent his entire life avoiding close relationships so as to shield himself from the pains of loss. It was just as well that the first person he'd truly grown to love would be taken from him. _And like this too…Those bastards…_

Marcus met Anya's eyes, then Cole's. The ex-thrashball star had been standing quietly, arms folded, staring at the floor. He couldn't bear to see his best friend be put through such agony. And poor Sam…they were—

He couldn't even think about it.

Marcus did a slow blink, searching their faces before speaking, his voice all business.

"Delta, let's move."


	8. Chapter 8

Marcus eventually decided Cole would be best suited to collect Baird, and the massive gear paused for a moment when the blonde came into view. He was kneeling on the boat's deck over his kitbags, sorting though them feverishly, unnecessarily checking the clips on his armor plates. Cole had known Baird for some time now, and he'd come to realize that the mechanic had a tough time sitting still when he was nervous. Baird didn't even seem to notice his friend standing ten feet away. His lips were pursed, his cheeks flushed as he unloaded and reloaded each of his weapons, right down to his sidearm. Cole took a few cautious steps forward.

"Damon," he began softly. "Don't you worry about Sam, alright?"

Baird met Cole's gaze for a second, not bothering to raise his head from his lancer. He looks away again, and continued the pain-staking process of cleaning the chainsaw bayonet. He seemed to take more interest than necessary; checking between each tiny blade for signs of debris they both knew wasn't there.

"What are you talking about," Baird mumbled incredulously.

"I think you know what I'm talking about," Cole prodded gently. "It's alright baby. She's a fighter. She's gonna be ok." The ex-thrashball player did his best to sound optimistic, but not overly so.

Cole waited for a response, but Baird didn't answer, though his friend knew the blond was trying really hard to look indifferent.

"You like her, don't you." Cole lowered his voice significantly, and Baird immediately met his deep brown gaze.

"How the hell is that any of your business?" Baird sounded more hostile than he would have liked as he stood from his spot, which betrayed his efforts at neutrality. He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. He took a moment to collect himself before speaking.

"We're gears Gus," he stated, his tone softer. Cole noted the use of his first name; Baird's way of saying he wasn't angry with him.

"We're a squad. No body's going to waltz in here and fuck with my family." Cole searched Baird's face for a moment, nodding. The blonde took him off guard however when his expression changed, his face becoming contorted with pain. Baird lowered his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I—I can't lose her Cole." When Baird met his gaze again, Cole saw tears in his blue eyes.

"I was supposed to protect her…I promised. If anything happens to her, I don't know if I'll—" He was sniffling now, unable to get his words out evenly. Cole had never, not once, witnessed Baird break down and cry. His heart ached for his friend; Cole realized he'd never prepared himself for a situation like this. He had no idea what to say.

"I just…I have to find her." Baird blinked, letting the last of his tears fall down his cheeks before wiping at his eyes.

"I told her I would," he added softly. Cole placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We're gonna find her, baby. Don't you worry." Baird nodded, pursing his lips in a tight line to keep them from quivering. Cole smiled warmly, patting Baird's shoulder with good-natured force.

"Thanks man," Baird said; his expression softened before reaching for his kit bags again.

"Anytime Damon," Cole turned to leave. "Get your stuff together. Marcus wants to ship out in ten. And I got a thing or two to say to this Griffin guy when we find him."

"Yeah, you and me both," Baird added with a growl, almost too low for Cole to hear.

* * *

**Sorry for the wait guys! Been super busy lately D: I haven't forgotten about you though! :) I've been working on future chapters for this story, as well as updates for a couple of my other stories! Woohoo! Hope you enjoyed, I'll be back soon 3**


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